Tombstone
by Bleeding Heart Sacred Soul
Summary: Following the events of "Tombstone", Jack McCoy reflects on life, love, and the parts they have played in shaping who he is. JM/CK. Spoilers for seasons 4-6 and season 16 "Tombstone".


Raindrops lashed at the window. Visibility was nil. It was not, in short, a night one wanted to be driving in, nor a night one wanted to be at the office late. It was a night to curl up with a blanket and a book, a mug of hot cocoa and a bowl of popcorn, and to pretend you were five years old again, or that your children were.

Nevertheless, one man in the District Attorney's office was working late. Three case files—one open, one shut, and one coming up for trial—lay open on his desk, but he wasn't looking at any of them. Instead he stared out the window, not seeing anything, even had there been something to see.

John James McCoy, EADA for New York City, often went off on thought tangents when he was on a case, especially when he was working alone, but tonight his thoughts were in a different direction. For the first time in his life, he wanted to kill someone, only he didn't know who exactly it was he wanted to kill. And for the second time in his life, he wanted to die.

"I can't go through this again," he half-whispered.

"Jack?"

Jack didn't turn around. He knew the voice, but it was one he hadn't heard in a while. "Serena. What are you doing here?"

Serena Southerland hovered in the doorway. "I heard about Ed…Lieutenant Van Buren called me. I came to see if you had any leads."

"Fontana's running down some leads. So far, nothing."

Serena hesitated. "Asking how you're holding up seems pointless, so I'll cut to the chase. What do you mean, 'again'?"

"I should have known you heard me."

"Jack…"

Jack sat in silence for a long moment. Finally he asked, "Have you heard about Lennie Briscoe?"

"Not since I left the DA's office." Serena smiled slightly at the thought of the crusty old detective. "How is the old sod?"

"Dead," Jack said softly. "He died of some disease he never talked about a month after you left." Serena paled as Jack continued. "I just…I can't keep doing this. You didn't know Claire Kincaid. I had a reputation as a womanizer…hell, I guess I _was_ a womanizer…I married one of my assistants once, but we divorced. I guess I didn't love her like I thought I did. Claire, though…I don't think I've ever loved anyone quite like I loved her. And then she died…I really do think that's why Lennie and I got along so well. Tore us up…we both blamed ourselves."

Wisely, Serena kept silent on that point as Jack went on, his voice getting shakier. "I wasn't crushed when Lennie died…he'd been sick and I knew he was better off…but Ed and I have gotten to know each other better since then. I don't have a lot of friends, Serena, and I can't help but feel responsible for Ed. Alex Borgia asked him to escort our witness to court this morning."

"Remember when that kid who was our star witness got killed?" Serena said, thinking back to the young teenager who had been gunned down. "You were upset then too."

Jack whirled around at that. "I don't give a damn about the witness, Serena!" he practically shouted. Lowering his voice to a hoarse half-whisper, he admitted, "That's what worries me. That, and not knowing if Ed is going to survive at all, let alone survive the night." He turned back to the window again, but Serena had seen the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.

"Jack," she said softly. "Jack, it's okay to be scared."

Jack gave a weak chuckle. "Not for me. Hell, I'm Jack McCoy and I'm in control."

"But you're not," Serena said gently with the insight of an old friend. "And that's what scares you. You hate not being in control, and you're terrified that you can't do anything to save Ed."

Serena had him pegged. Slowly, Jack nodded. "He's on life support, and he's lost a lot of blood…"

"I know. I went by earlier…they were low on his blood type. I'm a match, so…" Serena shrugged, tugging down her sleeve to cover the beige bandage on her elbow. "He's fighting, Jack."

"I know, but…" Jack swallowed. "I couldn't fight for Claire, she was just…gone. I couldn't fight for Lennie, he never told me he was sick. I want to help Ed fight, but God help me, Serena, I don't know how."

Serena came all the way into the room now and put a hand on his shoulder. "I've never told anyone this. When I was sixteen, my best friend invited me to go to a party celebrating our debate team's victory the night before. I had homework and couldn't go, but three other girls from the debate team went with her. They never got there. They were mugged, but the mugger didn't like what they gave him. He shot two of them, stabbed one of them, and he beat my best friend with a lead pipe. The girl who got stabbed was the first one down, she died on the way to the hospital, and the girls who had been shot died where he dropped them—they'd been trying to run away while he was beating up my friend. Sally—my best friend—was on life support for four months. She missed our junior prom and most of the summer. I had a different blood type than she did and couldn't do anything to help her, but I was there every day after school, and on weekends and over the summer I was there all day. All I did was sit there, feeling useless, and telling her about my day and how much I missed her. When she finally woke up, she told me that she had heard me talking to her, and that helped keep her with us." She knelt down next to Jack and squeezed his hand. "Just be there for him, Jack. Right now, that's what he needs most of all."

Jack sat silently, letting Serena's words sink in. Finally, he asked hoarsely, "Serena, do you believe in the Afterlife?"

"I do," Serena said firmly. "Why?"

A single tear trickled down Jack's face. "Wherever Lennie Briscoe is, I'm sure he's watching out for Ed, or believe me, he'd be dead by now."

Serena swallowed hard, blinking back tears of her own. "Of course he is," she whispered.

"Jack?"

This time, Jack did turn, to see Alexandra Borgia in the doorway, a puzzled look on her face. "I thought you went home hours ago," he said quietly, pretending to rub the bridge of his nose in order to wipe away his tears.

"I did," Alexandra answered. "Lieutenant Van Buren called me to say she couldn't reach you at home and was worried that in all this rain you might have accidentally driven into the East River. Have you been here all night?"

"Case files," Jack answered, his voice still soft.

Alexandra nodded. "Oh, yeah, the Barlett case." She blinked at Serena. "Who are you?"

Serena rose to her feet and approached Alexandra, holding out her hand. "Serena Southerland. I used to work here."

"Yeah, Arthur's mentioned you." Alexandra shook the proffered hand. "Alexandra Borgia."

"Nice to meet you." Serena glanced back at Jack. "Well, I'll leave you to your case files." She hesitated. "And, Jack…stay here tonight. Okay?"

Jack nodded silently. Serena walked back into the room, gave him a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek, then turned and headed to the door.

Alexandra fell into step with Serena as she left. "How long have you known him?"

"Mmm, about four, maybe five years, why?"

"He…well, he's not the easiest person to get along with."

Serena shrugged. "I don't know, we got on pretty well."

Alexandra hesitated. "You're…friends?"

Serena stopped and looked Alexandra straight in the eye, knowing what the other woman was asking. "I'm a lesbian," she said quietly, "and Jack still belongs to Claire Kincaid."

"Ex-wife? I know he was divorced…"

"ADA, back when Adam Schiff was still the DA—before my time." Serena started walking again; Alexandra hurried to catch up. "He was something of a womanizer before Claire, but his relationships with the ADAs since then has been strictly professional. And now I know what I guessed in there is true—he's not letting himself get close to you."

"Why not?" Alexandra asked cynically.

"Only Jack knows that…but I can guess. He and I were friends, and this is the first time I've seen him since Arthur let me go. Abbie Carmichael just vanished after she joined the US Attorney's office. Jamie Ross left because she was heavily involved in a custody battle for her daughter, and Claire…he's trying to be more careful with himself this time."

Alexandra frowned. "We work together, and you just said his relationships since…Claire…have been strictly professional. Why would his personal life, or mine, come into it?"

Serena stared at her. "You can't get by without _some _personal connection. You'll never understand his policies if you don't. Why does he feel as strongly as he does about drunk driving?"

"He drinks Scotch, but he takes a cab home when he does."

Serena shook her had. "Claire Kincaid. She was killed by a drunk driver. And he doesn't get drunk—he drinks, but he hasn't really gotten drunk since that night. Neither did Lennie Briscoe, and that was hard as hell for him, but he got help and he was sober until the day he died."

"I didn't know that."

"That's my point. Do you know why he's here so late?"

"He's really dedicated to his work," Alexandra answered, but she was beginning to suspect that was the wrong answer.

"Well, yeah, but…did he do anything unusual today?"

Alexandra considered for a moment. "He shouted at Drexler's attorney this morning…I've never heard him even raise his voice outside a courtroom, much less yell at anybody. He was furious, she was telling him he didn't have a case with his star witness dead—which is true, but still. I think he's mad about losing the case."

"It's not about the case, Alexandra," Serena said softly. "Jack would let a thousand Drexlers go free if it meant Ed would be all right. He feels responsible."

Alexandra kept her mouth shut as she and Serena emerged into the wet night, but she had her doubts about that.

"You been here all night?"

Jack rose groggily from his desk. Someone had draped a throw blanket around his shoulders, and Arthur Branch was standing over him.

"Yeah," Jack answered, a little faintly, as he was still half-asleep.

Arthur nodded. "Good. I was afraid you'd done something stupid. Anita Van Buren said she couldn't get a hold of you…we were both worried you'd driven into the East River."

"If I'd gone out I might have. Thank God for Serena."

"She call you?"

Jack chuckled slightly. "She came by last night, or I thought she did. I might've dreamed it."

Arthur smiled wryly. "She always had a way with people…'s one of the reasons I had to let her go, she was too emotional, but last night it was probably good. I bet she heard about Ed and came to see how you were doing."

"Pretty much, yeah." Jack stretched and picked up the fallen throw blanket. "Where did this come from?"

"Probably the sofa. You had it on when I came in." Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You didn't grab it?"

Jack shook his head. "It wasn't there when I went to sleep."

"I thought you'd brought it with you. I've never seen it before, but then I don't know half the things you keep in your office." Arthur frowned slightly at Jack, who decided not to rise to the bait or answer the obvious accusation and instead began folding the blanket. "Maybe someone left it here."

Jack suddenly froze, staring at one corner.

"What's wrong?" Arthur looked over Jack's shoulder. A white monogram was embroidered in the corner: _C.K._

"It's probably Calvin Klein, Jack," Arthur said quietly. He knew the story.

"I know," Jack practically whispered, but Arthur could see that he had been badly shaken by the initials. None of the DAs had been particularly close to Jack McCoy, but Arthur put a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Maybe it is her. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Maybe she's looking out for you."

"Maybe," Jack answered, his voice a little stronger. He set the folded blanket on the sofa. "I'd better get to work on those cases."

Despite work and Arthur's encouragement, Jack was sliding deeper into despair. One night about two months after Ed was shot, Jack sat alone at his desk. The part of his mind that doubted Ed would recover was growing bigger. Jack had tried to suppress it, but tonight he was beginning to give in.

He hesitated, his hand on his desk drawer, then surrendered and started to pull the drawer open.

"Shut that drawer, Jack."

Jack snapped the drawer shut, less because of the order and more because of the voice that had given it. He looked up sharply, his face pale. "Claire?" he said softly.

Claire Kincaid sat on the table across from his desk, her familiar little half-smile on her face but a concerned look in her dark brown eyes. "Jack, you don't need that. It'll be okay."

Jack didn't move. "You're dead," he said shakily. It was a fairly inane statement, but Claire seemed to understand.

"And you're alive, so start acting like it. I love you, but that doesn't mean I want you dead."

Jack looked down at his desk. "I'm really worried about Ed…he's in bad shape."

"I know," Claire said softly. "Don't worry, Jack. Lennie won't let anything happen to him. He's watching over Ed."

Jack looked back up at Claire. "Lennie Briscoe?"

Claire nodded. "They're all there, Jack. Lennie, Rey's wife, Adam and his wife…we've been keeping an eye on the precinct and the DA's office. Adam told me to give you a good smack upside the head for him."

Jack tried to smile. "He never did like me."

"He liked you well enough, it's just that he was still upset about Ben Stone. Kind of like you and Jamie Ross."

Jack threw up his hands in mock despair. "Do all you women have me pegged?"

Claire smiled and shook her head. "Just the ones who love you."

"Serena's a lesbian."

"I said she loved you. I didn't say she was _in_ love with you. She cares about you…she came to visit, didn't she?" Claire smiled again at the flabbergasted look on Jack's face. "Did you think I didn't know? I was the one who sort of prompted her to go…I was helping Lennie with Ed. He needed all the heaven he could get that night, and besides, I like to help out on the rare occasions when you pray. You needed someone that night too, though, so after Serena donated blood, I hinted that she needed to come visit you. I thought it might take some pushing, she's so strong-willed, but it turns out she had it in the back of her mind to come anyway."

Jack's head was spinning. "I don't get stunned easily, Claire, but…"

"But this is stuff you never would have thought of," Claire completed. "Trust me, I understand."

"Claire…I'm sorry."

This time Claire looked surprised. "For what?"

Jack gestured a little helplessly at her. "For this…for all of this."

"Jack, it's not your fault."

"If I hadn't left…"

Claire sat quietly for a moment. Finally, she spoke in a low, husky voice. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you ought to know. Part of my heaven is a bookshelf…a big one. When I looked the first day, there was a book on the non-fiction shelf called _The Life and Times of Claire Kincaid._ It was a word-for-word biography of my life." She paused. "A while later, imagine my surprise when I found two more copies on my fiction shelf. They were exactly the same, except for the ending."

"How did they end?" Jack had to ask.

Claire looked down at her lap, then back up at Jack. "In the first one, Lennie had left too and while I was walking back to my car, I was mugged and shot. I died on the operating table. The guy was eventually caught, but a jury found him not guilty and he walked. The other…" She hesitated. "Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you this one."

"You've come this far."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. The other book…you and Lennie were both there, and I gave you both a lift home. Lennie got out first and told me, again, that he wished I was his kid, and I told him we could pretend that I was. When I dropped you off, you kissed me and said you'd see me in the morning. I got back to my apartment and there was a man in the hallway, trying to pick my neighbour's lock. I tried to open my door quietly, thinking I'd call the police when I got in, but he saw me and knocked me out." Claire met Jack's eyes; he had risen from his chair in alarm and some anger. "I won't go into details, Jack, but I spent three weeks chained in a cellar somewhere before Lennie and Rey. By then it was too late…about the time Lennie got to me and shouted for Rey to call an ambulance, I died from a combination of starvation and the tortures the guy had put me through. They never caught the guy because nobody had any idea who owned the building or who had been in my apartment that night, or even where I had disappeared from."

Jack was trembling slightly as she finished. "My God, Claire, I…" He came out from behind the desk. Without thinking about it, he walked up to her and hugged her tightly.

Claire hugged him back, laying her head on his shoulder for a moment, and for that instant she was really there. But then she pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes. "Jack, I have to leave now…I've stayed longer than I should have anyway. But believe me when I say everything happens for a reason. If you hadn't left…" She didn't finish her sentence. "And at least you had some closure, even if all the guy got was twelve months in minimum-security. It's better than nothing, which is what you would have got otherwise. You're alive, so _live_, Jack. I love you and I'll never forget you, and I'll be there to meet you when it's your turn, but not a moment sooner, understood?"

"I understand," Jack answered. And he did.

Claire stood up, then rose onto her toes and kissed Jack lightly. "Goodbye, Jack," she whispered softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jack whispered back.

Claire smiled at him and started walking. Before she made it to the door, she had disappeared.

Jack stared after her for a long while. _Did I dream that?_ he wondered.

After a while, a smile spread across his face. _Who cares? She was there when I needed her, and I know she's all right now. What does it matter if I dreamed it or not?_

Smiling still, he picked up his coat and headed for the door. It was time to go home.


End file.
